WARNING: Language, abuse, distorted reality. A/N at the end. Read at your own risk.
When Bruce awakened, he knew something was wrong. When he opened his eyes and took a look at his surroundings, he could see nothing but darkness. Not even the window gave him a source. He found himself in the fetal position, on the ground, with no idea how he got like that. And when he touched around, all he could feel was air.
"Jarvis?" He called out with curiosity. There was no answer.
He hesitantly stood up, kicking his legs to gain the feeling back while stretching his arms. Aiming his hands forward, he walked until he could hit something. Anything to figure out where he might be. How long had he been there for? Seemingly not long if his body wasn't hurting from laying on the ground like that– actually, he felt totally fine, which was, in itself, suspicious.
If this was indeed an attack that went under his nose, the attacker must be very strong. Because Bruce prided himself to be a very light sleeper and so to be caught in such a way, the attacker must have either known he could take him or simply had a death wish. He felt a moment of reassurance when his hands hit something hard. He felt around to see what it was; when he touched the knob, he knew that he was at a door. So if he was actually in his room or perhaps something like his room, the switch should be to his left. And sure enough, he touched the tip of the switch which he tried to flick back and forth to no avail. A power surge perhaps? Could that also explain why there was no light coming from neither the bottom of the door nor the window? Could that also explain why Jarvis wasn't responding? No, the thought was silly, there was no way such a discrepancy would take Jarvis out.
Which could only mean he wasn't in the Stark tower and if that was the case, then where was he? He tried to remember the events leading up to the moment he crawled into bed, and found that he could not. The thought of forcing a transformation just to see whether the Hulk was there went through his mind, but he knew that might be the worst decision he could ever make so he held off on that thought.
He took slow, deep breaths, counted his fingers and toes, again, and ultimately did what he could only do in such a situation. He gently slammed his head forward into the door with frustration, letting loose a sharp whine, and with such little impact the weak door opened causing him to fall forward. He let out a surprised groan as his hands reached forward to support himself. Well, he surely deserved that one.
He felt himself cringe – the floor didn't even feel the same, even though it held the same coldness.
He cursed under his breath as he moved to his knees, a deep frown on his face which was hidden underneath his palm. Where the hell was he? And where were the others?
Stay calm, he comforted himself silently, If you're not calm, bad things will happen.
Where did that come from? He shook at the thought though he knew it was true. Stay calm, be calm, think of something which makes you calm. An image popped up in his mind which made his heart began to speed, but not in a negative way. The time Barton and his friend's brought him out to a strip club on his birthday with Barton's wife calling after asking him where he was – and Barton, not being able to lie to his wife, was to stay on the phone the entire time as Bruce was force-given a lap dance. The time Steve welcomed him on the team and referred to him as 'one of us' with a gentle pat to the shoulder. The moment he kissed Natasha (or she kissed him) even though she knew his secret and lived through it.
The time he moved into the Stark tower, and almost immediately being dragged out by a mischievous billionaire who was hiding from his duties. The time Tony took him out shopping and locked them in one of the change rooms after recognizing a past fling who he described as 'heavily possessive, who promised to flame my dick if she saw me again.' And then being reprimanded by a staff member, who was quieted down a few moments later probably by a slipped $20 bill in their pocket. The memories made him chuckle, if not happy. He had one of the best times with Tony. A nice candlelight after a stressful day of fighting crime –a large steak, and a delicious red wine which he later realized was his birthday dinner along with an Iron-man action figure which Tony proposed would look nice on his bedside. He remembered being both amused and emotional – amused with Tony's antics, but emotional since that was the first time in a long time he celebrated his birthday with someone. He was thankful that it was just Tony watching him become a disbelieved, pouting puppy and with a welcoming headlock, Tony promised it would be just their little secret, which Bruce was grateful for and neither doubted him.
Tony asking him how his day went. Tony bringing him snacks while he was working. Tony throwing one of his parties and introducing him as 'a special person who is in every way better than you.' Which probably wasn't wise nor polite to say to your affiliates, but still.
Tony telling him he loved him and not hating him for not responding to his confession even though he oh so desperately wanted too. And he was sure Tony knew it too, but was simply waiting for him like the sweet man he is, 'Even though he shouldn't,' Bruce thought to himself, because he deserved so much more than Bruce can give. Because all Bruce could give him was pain.
But Tony knew that for a long time, even before his confession and still loved him. The selfish part of Bruce couldn't help but smile at the thought. It didn't seem like he was giving up either. Was it worth taking the chance? Did he have it in himself to make someone happy? "Tony…" The name sputtered out of his mouth before he could stop himself, "Tony, Tony.." He whispered the name under his breath. Where was he? Why wasn't he here?
"You called?"
The familiar voice made his eyes widen, feeling his heart race momentarily as he turned around. The room had conformed to his room in the stark tower. He deterred slightly after being in the darkness for too long, but when he came too, the sight was exceptionally clear to him without his glasses. It's a trap, something nagged at him. It wasn't real.
But when Bruce heard Tony's voice, and when he saw the figure itself standing with his hands in his pocket, a wide smirk adorning his lips, nothing seemed to matter anymore. He stood and ran back into his room, or at least what he presumed was his room, towards him.
The first thing Bruce did when he got to him, he touched him. He touched his clothes, touched his face, touched his hands and when that deep voice whispered teasingly, "Woah there Banner, I don't think I'm ready for this type of commitment yet," Bruce was relieved through and through.
"Tony!" He yelled again, hugging him. Tony was somewhat taken aback as he was usually the one who initiated the 'giant bear hugs which usually made the cute scientist squirm'. None the less, he returned the hug, and tightly at that, "What's going on? Where are we?"
"I don't really know to be honest. I woke up and it was just like this." Tony whispered, sounding just as inquisitive as he always was, "But it's nice, isn't it?" Bruce let him go and looked at him with a confused expression on his face, "I mean, being here, with you, it feels like there's no one else in the world, but us."
Bruce blinked at this, his face suddenly going hot as he looked down at the ground. He couldn't deny it; once his eyes met Tony's, all ability to think was lost as all he wanted to do was go and hold him, to make sure he was really there. And he was, Tony was there, "You're right… just us." He admitted, and was shocked that he did.
Tony simply grinned at this, "You're such a sweet talker, though your mouth isn't the only thing that's great about you. You know Banner, this would all be easier if you just admitted that you were in love with me already."
I am, Bruce yelled in his head, I really am, "Tony, I-"
Tony placed a hand over his lips and shook his head, "Shh, don't talk." Their eyes met once again, and Bruce swore he saw something in them as they narrowed, but when the hand slid down towards his chest, and the proximity between them grew closer, Bruce, for the second time that day, found he could no longer think as sudden lips were on his. It was quick, soft, with the light feel of facial hair making Bruce shudder at the reality that this was really Tony. His best friend. The man he owed his life too. The man he'd do anything for.
When Tony drew back, Bruce was no longer looking at him, "Wow." He whispered.
"I know."
"Wow."
"I know, I know." Tony teased with a sly grin over his face, licking his lips, "And there's a lot more where that came from."
"Tony I-" Bruce started, which made said man look at him, waiting for him to go on, "I.. I know I'm not the best person in the world." When he saw Tony open his mouth to retort, he stopped him, "The truth is, I'm jealous. Jealous of your relationship with Pepper. Jealous that you can say the words I can't." Tony was surprised when his partner took a step forward and pressed his hand towards his collar bone, "But the truth is… I love you too."
Tony's eyes widened like dinner plates as he drew back slightly, pleasantly surprised at this new turn of events. He felt a blush coming on, but he was quick to hide it as he pressed his fingers to his own face in momentarily contemplation. His reaction made Bruce also lean back – oh wait – did he get It wrong – but he was quickly swept back into the other man's arms, unallowed to take that thought any further.
"Took you long enough buddy." Tony grumbled in his ear. With a flustered expression, Bruce wrapped his arms around his neck. Just this was enough. Just like this… and he'd be okay. He could feel the gentle hands moving from behind his back, sliding up and down, forwards, backwards, comfortingly before it slowly rose towards the back of his neck, towards his hair to feel gently around it.
And suddenly he feels his tousled curls being jerked to the side and he's forced to turn, "Wha – ugh, let go!" He yelled as a sudden pressure on his head forced him down to his knees. Why couldn't he control his body?
He felt lips to his ear, his breath caught in his throat. Tony would never… "I called it, didn't I?" The voice was different, menacing, which made Bruce freeze. Not at how cold and unfeeling the voice sounded – but because of the familiarity of it – a voice which often haunted his thoughts and dreams no matter how many times he tried to fight it—"I knew you were going to turn out to be a fag. Ah, what a satisfying reaction. You should see your face, like a man who found out he got his whore pregnant and realized he'd have to whack up a ton of alimony payments because the courts favor woman that way."
… Dad. Bruce gripped his fists, forced his eyes closed.
"Don't call me that. It sounds disgusting coming from you. I'm not your little daddy, you little dumb faggot." Bruce heard the sound of him spitting, though he didn't feel anything wet, "Should have seen this coming, you know. You look like her after all, minus the obvious parts – I think – but you're also probably into the same fucking. What? Am I wrong?"
Bruce was horrified. It showed on his face. But he didn't say anything, he bit his lip just not to say anything, because then it would be worse. He felt himself being pushed back up by his hairs and a hand over his throat, and helplessly he was slammed into one of the walls. Or at least what he thought was a wall. When he opened his eyes, he was looking right into a mirror, right at him, "Look at yourself, look how pathetic you are." Bruce saw a distorted image of himself when he was younger, the bruises, "I thought they'd make you grow out of this, but look at you, you're a wuss, fucking pathetic!"
You will not get through to me. Bruce tried to comfort himself in his mind. You are not here. You are not real. You are just a figment of my imagination. You will NOT control me, not again. He grit his teeth as he struggled with his words, breath by breath, "Where. is. he ?"
The sudden grin over Brian's face, showing teeth, caused him to recoil, "This is where the fun begins."
Bruce let out a yell as he used all the strength in his arms to push back causing the man to stumble away from him. He allowed himself to move away from the mirror – only for them to be pinned down again behind his back, unable to move. He was frozen again, but why?! "Keh, don't get your panties in a bunch, he's right there." Bruce blinked and turned his head slightly, as he saw the hand point back towards the mirror and he looked… only to be slammed back into the mirror again. He let out a yell as he could feel his blood rush to his forehead, his eyes shut closed… and then he opened his eyes, and saw him.
The mirror was no longer a mirror, but a glass to another room where Tony was trapped inside. His head looked like he was impaled on something hard, spurts of blood surrounding the entire room. On the ground, with his bland arc reactor right beside him, face down.
The hands were gone and Bruce fell to his knees, a trail of blood leading from the place where he had hit his forehead on the glass and down towards where he was now, trickling further towards the ground.
"She's lying there in a pool of blood because of you." There was something ringing in his head, his feet were asleep, "You did this. It's all your fault. You couldn't save her."
He found his breath caught in his throat as he jerked his head quickly to the side once, before his eyes went back to the blood curling scene. It was still there, "… Tony…" He choked out, helplessly, "Tony please… !"
"She can't hear you. She's dead. And hopefully you're next, because there is no need for you in this world you useless piece of filth!" He felt hands on each side of his neck, choking him from behind, all he could do was stare wide eyed at the scene in front of him… all he could do… "She's lying there because of you. She's dead because of you. Because you thought you deserved more, but the truth is you deserve lower than death and I'm hellbent to make sure that you're going to know it." He twisted Bruce's face upwards so he could look at him, Bruce couldn't register the way his head cracked as he was forced to stare into the eyes of the devil, "Mmkay, little Richard?"
His chest heaved up and down, sweat all over his face, over his body, over his bed sheets. His hands kept clenching and unclenching, loud and forced breaths escape his throat. When his eyes snap open, they're already green, and with that he lets out a sinister wail into the night as his bed suddenly breaks beneath him.
Alright: a few things I would like to point out.
I found it funny that Bruce thought he was in the stark tower, still working it out, only to realize it's not when it came to Jarvis unable to reply. In other words, doubting Tony's skills which he wouldn't. As you can see when Bruce was with Tony he seemed to act a little different, almost childlike. This was done purposely, first. love can make people act weird and squirmy. Second. he is reverting slowly towards a childlike version of himself, almost like a foreshadow of what is to come soon after. Three, he's just so unbelievably cute which I can't deny. Even not-Tony was captivated. Last thing, if you couldn't tell, while his father kept referencing 'her' he actually meant Bruce's mother. When Rebecca(his mom) took little Bruce in hopes of escaping from the abusive son of a gun, the stupid drunk caught them and little Bruce watched helplessly as his mothers head was slammed into the pavement. Tony's head was impaled in the head. And again he could do nothing. Oh and as you can obviously tell Brian obviously holds a deep dislike for women.
Have you ever had a dream that was so vivid, that played with your emotions and memories, which made you wake up screaming bloody murder?
